In The Shadows
by DreamShadows
Summary: Sam plays a sport behind John's back, and when he's injured, he must deal with the consequences. SFTCOLARS Secret Santa prompt for Faye Dartmouth. R&R ...New Penname, I used to be ObuletShadowStalker...
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys!! So as I take a break with my other story, trying to psyche up for chapter 8, I thought I'd get my Secret Santa fic under way. This fic is written for **Faye Dartmouth,** the queen of limp!Sammy…

I really hope she… and the rest of you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or even the general plot of this story… Though I do own the season one and two box-sets… 

Read on…

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The Prompt: _Sam plays sports behind John's back and gets himself hurt in the process. The only thing he can thing about is how much his dad is going to kill him. The sport, injury, and family's reaction is up to you._

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'in the shadows

they say  
that i must learn to kill before i can feel safe  
but I  
I rather kill myself then turn into there slave  
sometimes  
I feel that I should go and play with the thunder  
somehow  
I just don't wanne stay and wait for a wonder'

The Rasmus - In the Shadows

Sam watched the players of his team run the football field. He had been on the bench for the past ten minutes, after having played most of the first half of the game. They were up fourteen to nothing, and Sam's coach had decided to let another player go in for a while, but if the looks the coach were giving Jones, he was about to call Sam back in.

"Winchester!" The call startled him from his reverie and he turned to look at his coach.

"Yeah coach?" The man looked at him, as if trying to study him, taking in every feature the youngest Winchester had to offer.

"I'm calling out Jones; I want you to go in." Sam nodded, smirking a little at being right, and stood from the bench.

He had been on the football team for a little over a month, and though it had been difficult to hide from his father, he enjoyed playing, and would continue to lie if it kept him on the team.

Its not like Dad doesn't like how everything's turned out. Sam mused, thinking to the praise his father had been giving him since he had joined the team. Sam had gotten faster during training exercises, and his coordination had also improved. 

Dean had been a big support from the beginning, coming to games when he could, and helping Sam practice. He had bought Sam a second hand football when he had gotten on the team, and the ball had since been worn down to the point of almost falling apart.

"Now Winchester! Go!" The coach barked, effectively tearing him from his thoughts, and sending him jogging onto the waiting field. Through the cheers that rose from the bleachers behind him, Sam heard his brother. "Let's go Sammy!" The call should have annoyed him, and normally would have, but instead it seemed to steady his nerves.

Pulling on his helmet, Sam jogged into the middle of the field, backing just a few yards behind the fifty yard line; off to the side; and waited for the play to start. He heard Jimmy calling the plays, and looked around the field scoping out the opposing team, and his own, readying himself for the play.

Following the signal from his fellow player, Sam took off at a run for the end zone, turning halfway through to make sure he was ready for the ball if it came for him. And come the ball did…

Along with the other team's linebacker.

Sam caught the ball a split second before he was hit. It felt like a freight train plowing into him, and he heard more than felt the breath leave his lungs. Something snapped as the linebacker's shoulder met his ribs, and Sam gasped reflexively, feeling pain spear through him.

He was pushed to the ground, his leg bending awkwardly underneath both his and the other player's weight. A painful snap reverberated up his leg and through the rest of his body, stealing his already sparse air. His helmet came loose as his head smacked into the ground, his ears ringing with the impact, black spots threatening to swallow his vision.

The weight of the other player left, and he curled into himself, gasping and whimpering in pain as the movement jarred both his leg and his ribs. His vision grayed, and Sam had to fight to hold onto consciousness. He gnashed his teeth together, and tried to shake his head to lessen the spots filling his vision, only to have his sight worsen.

Clenching his eyes tightly together, Sam tried to clear his mind and take stock of the situation, already knowing it was bad. He most likely had a concussion. He knew his leg was at least broken, and he had at least one broken rib.

His father was going to _murder_ him… There was no doubt about that.

His thoughts were clouded by pain, and Sam felt consciousness leaving him, even as hands grabbed him and tried to roll him over. He curled even tighter into himself, trying to get away from the pain. He prayed that he would lose consciousness, even as he prayed to stay awake and keep Dean from doing anything stupid.

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Dean watched his brother get tackled as if in slow motion. He felt his anger spike as it had done a lot since his brother had joined the team, but he forced it down, not wanting to hit a seventeen-year-old kid, no matter how much he disliked them. He heard Sam's choked out cry, and could swear he heard the snap as his little brother's rib caved in beneath the pressure.

He was already standing as Sam was going down. He watched his baby brother's leg bend and snap awkwardly, and saw his helmet fly off, his head smacking the ground hard.

He was running as he heard Sam's whimpers and pained gasps, his senses tuned completely to his brother. Sam was hurting, and though Dean knew there were risks in football, he also didn't expect them to apply to his brother, especially not while he was in the bleachers watching it happen.

Dean slid to a stop at his brother's side even as the coach grabbed him and tried to roll him over. Dean grabbed the hands from his brother's back and side, and pushed the man away, not caring if he angered him or not at the moment.

His brother was the only thing that mattered.

Dean laid his hand on Sam's forehead and rubbed his temple in small, soft circles, trying to calm his brother and get Sam to focus on him instead of the pain. He needed to find out just how badly his brother was hurt, and if he was right, Sam _was_ hurt badly.

Dad's going to kill us! Dean thought. He would kill Dean for keeping Sam's football a secret and Sam for playing in the first place. 

Sam turned his head into Dean's touch and slit his eyes open. The pain and raw fear in them struck something in Dean, made his stomach clench and his heart ache for his little brother.

Through gentle hand movements and soft coaxing, Dean got Sam to slowly roll over and stretch out on the grass. By the time Sam was fully on his back, his head was thrown back into the grass, the tendons in his neck popping, as his face contorted in pain, his eyes clenched tightly and his teeth bared.

Moving his hands to the base of Sam's throat, Dean rubbed them up and down rhythmically, calling to his brother. After a moment Sam let out a breath and opened his eyes to peer up at Dean. Giving his brother a small reassuring smile which was barely returned, Dean turned to look Sam over, trying to figure out the damage.

Sam's leg was bent in an unnatural junction and without looking; Dean knew from the snaps, that both his leg and rib were broken. Looking back into his brother's eyes, Dean's concern spiked seeing the unfocussed glaze, and dilated pupils that Sam had a concussion.

"How you feeling, little brother?" Dean asked quietly, keeping most of his attention on Sam, while the other part wandered, looking to make sure the coach had called the paramedics over.

Dean couldn't believe all this had happened in the span of a few moments.

Two men came running over, a backboard being carried between them, and medical bags hanging from opposite shoulders. Turning his gaze from the medics, Dean looked around them to find most of the team standing in a protective circle around them, some looking angry and sure while others looked on with faces filled with worry.

Dean nodded to them and switched his attention fully to his brother. Sam was trembling in pain, little tremors running through his body. When Dean met his gaze it was clouded with fear and hurt.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy." Dean's voice was soothing and he felt Sam relax under his grip, watched as some of the tension left his body.

"Sir you're going to have to give us room," Dean turned to see a medic looking at him, his face filled with apology, and Dean nodded, moving to get up. A tight grip on his hand stopped him and he looked to Sam, his eyes hazy with fear.

"Don't leave," the plea was whispered, but powerful all the same. Dean gripped Sam's hand tight, and squeezed, trying to convey his strength through the touch.

"I'll be right over here Sammy." Dean whispered, looking from his brother to the medics, trying to ignore the pleading looks coming from both parties. "You'll be able to see me the whole time, and I'll keep an eye on you. Yah know? Make sure they don't do anything funny." Sam squeezed his hand, but nodded, letting his death grip on Dean's hand go.

"Can you tell me your name son?" The medic was in his place at Sam's side the second Dean stood, but Dean and Sam kept their eyes locked on each other.

"Sam Winchester." The reply was simple and shaky, making Dean's fear spike up a notch.

"Mmhhm, good. Where you are and what happened?" Sam tore his gaze from Dean as one medic grabbed his chin and held steady as the other wrapped a brace around his neck.

"Football game." Sam stopped and thought for a minute, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "I was hit." He looked to Dean, trying to see if he had answered right and Dean had to fight tears, seeing his brother so vulnerable and unsure.

Dean smiled and nodded, and watched as Sam looked back to the medic. "When were you born?"

"Uh… May," Sam swallowed hard and looked to Dean before squinting his eyes a little in concentration. "May second, eighty three?" The medic looked to Dean for conformation, and he gave a curt nod looking back to his little brother without a word.

"Okay," the medic sighed, tightening the straps on the stretcher around Sam, before looking to his partner. "You ready?" He asked.

"Good to go," he nodded, giving his partner a thumbs up.

"Okay Sam," Sam looked back to the man, and Dean could see his eyes closing in exhaustion even as he tried to comprehend what the man was saying. "You're going to feel a jostle, but my partner and I are going to pick you up and move you to the ambulance, okay?" Sam tried to nod, but found his head secured and unwilling to cooperate.

"M'kay," he said softly, instead. Despite his words, Sam whimpered as he was jerked into the air, and Dean growled.

They moved carefully to the waiting ambulance, and loaded Sam into the back, holding up a hand as Dean moved to get in. "Please?" Sam whispered, cutting off any explanation, any objection.

"Fine, but give us room to work," the man shrugged in apology, as Dean looked about ready to bite him.

"I'll stay out of the way, but there's no way you're leaving here without me. He's the only thing that matters right now." Dean answered even as he climbed in next to the man he had growled at. "You'll be okay, Sammy." He whispered, placing his hand on Sam's chest, above his heart.

'I hope…'

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A/N: Hey, so I hope you guys liked this… Especially Faye…

Tell me what you thought, and if there's any improvements to make…

Take care and review often,

OSS


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys!!

So I was amazed at the response for the first chapter!! I was so giddy for the past few days, because of your amazing words… and they just keep coming, I got a review this morning, and it made me smile! Thanks guys!!

What do you think about the new penname?? I know Faye told me it was gonna confuse her, but I needed a change with everything else that's going on, and I've been OSS for a couple years.

Okay, enough with the babbling, I hope you enjoy.

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John Winchester walked back into his house after loading his arsenal into his car, getting ready for the hunt he and Dean were going on in the morning. Dean and Sam had gone to have some brother time, _something they've been doing a lot lately_, John thought to himself with a curious grin.

John sighed and closed his eyes, finally admitting the peace and quiet did him good. He loved his boys, loved them both dearly, sometimes he just needed to be alone… Sometimes he just needed to think and relax.

The shrill ring of the phone drew him from his thoughts and he pushed himself towards the kitchen of the small rental house they had been staying in. He dragged a hand through his wayward hair as he lifted the receiver, pushing the 'TALK' button and placing the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" He asked, a grin quirking his lips as his thoughts wandered back to his boys.

"Dad?" The sound of his eldest' panicked voice was enough to snap his thoughts back into place, and wash the smile from his lips.

"Dean? What's wrong?" He winced as the serious tone in his voice came out as more of a barked growl.

"It's Sammy, he ah-" Dean paused and John could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he thought. "Well there was an accident, and he's hurt pretty badly. They brought him to the hospital and…"

"Wait, Dean are you okay?" _An accident?_ John thought to himself, even as he walked towards the door, grabbing his keys and jacket on the way. He stopped only at the doorway, waiting for Dean to answer him.

"What? Yea- yeah, I'm fine, it's just Sammy. We're at the hospital, you need to get here." The shakiness in Dean's voice startled John and his grip on the phone tightened.

"I'll be right there Dean, just ah- wait for me, and don't do anything stupid." John grimaced at his tone once more, but he knew that when Sam was hurt, Dean was prone to stupid behavior, even if it was only wheedling at the nurses until they got fed up and had him kicked out.

He hung up the phone and tossed it on the chair near the door, before jogging out to the car, bent on getting to Dean and Sam as soon as he could.

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Dean paced the waiting room of the little North Dakota hospital like a caged animal. It had been almost half an hour since his brother had been brought in, and he had called his father only moments earlier. For the first fifteen minutes he had filled out medical forms for Sam, and then he had remembered that his father had yet to be informed of his youngest' condition.

Since he had hung up his phone, he had been walking back and forth across the linoleum flooring, trying to clear his mind and take his thoughts away from his little brother. Sam had been so afraid in the ambulance, and Dean knew that part of it was the unfamiliarity of the vehicle and the persons residing in it.

Despite the Winchester lifestyle, most trips to the hospital for the youngest Winchester had been made in the Impala. Sam had only been in an ambulance once before, and he had been unconscious at the time, so to Sam his first ride in the ambulance had been today's. Sam had always been iffy when it came to the cars he rode in. All his life he had only ridden in three automobiles; the Impala, Joshua's Ford Explorer, and Caleb's Dodge Pick-up…He hadn't even ridden in the car John had gotten after he had given Dean the Impala on his eighteenth birthday.

It was a little thing Sam had.

So for his little brother, the ride in the bulky ambulance had been more than a little unnerving, although now he could add another vehicle to his list.

Still the fear he had seen in his brother's eyes, had really tore at Dean. He knew that Sam was afraid of what would happen once he got to the hospital, and that he was in pain; but it still didn't help the clenching going on his stomach at the one look from Sammy.

Sighing, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to scrub away the traces of fear and concern residing there. _He was strong; a Winchester through and through. _The thought made his chest puff out in pride.

A Winchester through and through, until it comes to Sammy. He deflated at that, rubbing at his hand as tremors ran through it. 

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It had been almost twenty minutes since John had gotten the call from Dean, when he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Taking no heed of the offended man in the little red sports car that he stole the spot from, John cut the engine and just about ran into the hospital.

Asking a nurse for directions to the surgical waiting room, he hastily thanked her and continued taking his long strides towards the room and his son. Fear was gnawing at him, grinding his chest as he thought about Sam and what Dean must be feeling as he waited for word on his brother.

Those poor nurses. 

The thought was an unconscious reaction, and it wasn't followed by the smirk it usually would have. Nothing was funny about a hospital. Nothing was funny about one of his sons being _in _the hospital.

Breathing hard, John took the last turn, and had to hurriedly put on the brakes. Dean was standing right there, in the middle of a turn, a look of complete concentration on his face. The look soon turn to one of a spooked puppy, and he skittered away from his father.

"Whoa Dean, calm down!" John called, scrambling after his eldest son. He caught Dean's arm just as he tripped over a desk filled with all sorts of magazines, a row of chairs next to it.

The typical waiting room setup, John thought ruefully to himself, though he found nothing typical about the fact that Sam was in the hospital, for reasons he still didn't know. 

Keeping a firm grip on Dean's arm, John led him to a chair and sat him down in it, before slumping into the one next to it. "So," he said after a moment, checking Dean over, making sure nothing was wrong with him. "What happened?"

Dean seemed to pale at the question, an innocent look lining at his young features. "Well, ah- you see the thing is," cutting himself off, Dean gave his arm an unconscious tug, as his lips and eyes pulled in thought. "You know all those little "brother nights" Sam and I have been taking lately?" Dean finally said after a while, looking up at his father and waiting for an answer as if he really didn't know if his father had noticed.

"Yeah," John nodded, letting Dean's arm slip from his grip. "What about them?" The suspicion in his tone was hard to miss, and so was the bobbing of Dean's Adam's apple as he swallowed hard.

"Well see, as much as they've been "brother nights" they've also been me going to Sam's football games to watch him play." Dean ducked his head, waiting for John's reaction.

After a moment Dean lifted his head a touch when his father didn't reply. There was disbelief, and anger marring his father's weathered face, and Dean had to fight the urge to look down again, for fear of his father's anger.

"Football?" The question caught Dean off-guard after long moments of silence had passed.

Dean nodded.

"And just when were you going to tell me?" Disbelief laced his father's tone, and Dean tried hard not to flinch. "Or better yet, why was he even on the team at all?" He paused and then, "When I forbade him to play?"

Dean winced as every question hit home. He had been asking himself the same things as he had waited for his father to get to the hospital.

What had he forged his father's signature on the team slip?

Why had he let Sam play a dangerous sport?

Why hadn't he listened?' 

Silence filled the void between the men, and Dean turned away from his father, not wanting to see the disappointment and anger he was sure to find on his father's face.

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John and Dean had been waiting in the small room for hours, neither man wanting or trying to fill the silence that seemed to emanate between them. All either of them wanted was to find out about the youngest member of their family, to know that Sam was okay.

Squeaky footsteps echoed through the adjacent hall of the room, and both elder Winchester's looked up to see a doctor heading toward them. The man looked tired and worn, and both men's hearts dropped.

TBC

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A/N: So one more chapter to go!!! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and sorry for the few day delay!!

Let me know what you think!!!

Take care and review often,

DS (OSS)


	3. Chapter 3

So with the holidays I hope you all can forgive me for my little lateness… Especially you Faye. Anyway, enough with the babbling.

Here is the next and final chapter of 'In the Shadows' I hope you all enjoy!

On with the reading…

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Dr. Meyer ran a tired hand through his hair, knowing that he shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing after a sixteen hour shift. The kid had been in a football accident, with a fractured leg and rib, several bruised ribs, and a concussion. He needed good care for his leg and monitoring for the concussion, not to mention the ribs, and Meyer wasn't sure that a surgeon that had been on duty for as long as he had been should have been given the case.

He sighed and turned the last corner before the surgical waiting room. Looking up he spotted the brother that had came in with his patient almost immediately. Beside him sat a haggard looking man, and from the looks, what must have been the father of the two boys.

"Family of Samuel Winchester?" He asked, already knowing the answer as the two men looked up at him with fear. Both stood in acknowledgement.

"I'm his father, John, and this is Dean, his brother." The older of the two stuck out his hand, and Meyer gratefully shook it.

"My name is Dr. Meyer and I was Sam's attending surgeon." He answered, and let go of John's hand to shake Dean's.

"How is he?" John asked, drawing attention back to the matter at hand.

"Well, I'm happy to tell you that Sam should be fine marring any complications. We want to keep him over night to monitor his concussion, and to administer a full course of antibiotics for his leg, but other than that he can go home in the morning." Both men standing in front of him seemed to sag in relief at the news.

"So he's okay?" Dean asked, hesitant hope shining.

"Well he's going to be very sore for a while, with a broken rib and several bruised. He also had a metal plate and screws surgically put into his leg to keep the bone together; and concussions are nothing to fool around with." Meyer paused, making sure both men got the gravity of the situation, "But yes, barring any complications, he should be fine."

"Okay," John answered slowly, seeing Dean was incapable of any coherent sentences at the moment, as he tried to take in just how bad Sam had been hurt. "When can we see him?" He saw Dean's head shoot up at the question.

"Well as soon as he's out of Recovery, we'll get him settled in a room in PCU. Once he's settled, you can sit with him." Smiles lined both faces, and Meyer held up a hand to get their attention. "Though I should warn you, after coming out of surgery and the pain medication we're giving him, he won't be real coherent for a little while."

John nodded, a soft, "okay," slipping to let Meyer know they understood what he was saying.

"Okay, so I'll have a nurse sent to get you when Sam is settled," Meyer said with a smile, turning to walk away.

"Dr. Meyer," John called, and he turned back to the men, "thank you for taking care of my boy."

"No problem, I'm glad he's okay." He patted John's shoulder and walked away, turning back to see the men slump into the chairs behind him, before taking the corner to the locker room. He was just glad his shift was over and his patient was okay. Sam had looked so much like his boy; Jo; and he didn't know what he would have done if he had gotten the call that Jo had been hurt.

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Dean slumped back into the uncomfortable plastic chair behind him, relief making him feel a lightness replace the wrenching vice in his chest that had resided there since Sam had first been hit. He let his breath out in an audible 'whoosh' and turned to look at his father, trying to see how the older man was taking the news.

His father had slumped into the chair beside him, his head dipped into his palms in a very un-Winchester like display of emotion. Dean could tell he was relieved, but to actually see his father so 'open' almost scared Dean. In his twenty-one years of life he had only ever seen his father as "emotional" as he was now, the night his mother had died.

He watched his father draw in a shaky breath and push himself further up into the chair. He ran his hands roughly through his hair, and looked at Dean, offering him a crooked smile.

Dean smiled back, only a small quirking of his lips, but he knew his father got the picture. He wouldn't be completely happy until he was allowed to actually see for himself that his Sammy was alright.

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A small, graying nurse bustled into the small waiting room only twenty minutes later, and led the older Winchesters to the youngest member of their family. With a hurried smile, she left them outside Sam's room, and scurried off to get back to her duties. Neither man knew what to think about the little nurse.

John turned the handle and pushed the door open, mentally preparing himself for what he would find on the other side. He dipped his head and closed his eyes before looking up and taking in the sight of his youngest son. He heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him and knew that Dean was getting his full view of Sammy.

Their Sammy was so small and innocent it _hurt._

Covered in the hospital issue white sheets, and laying on the white bed left Sam looking more vulnerable than he had ever been. The gown that clothed him was baggy, and concealed wires that ran under the collar. Tubes ran under his nose and hooked into the arm resting limply on his stomach, both sets of them disturbing as they ran into the youngest member of the small family.

Through the white gown John could see bandages tightly wrapping Sam's ribs, telling the man that the doctor hadn't been lying about the severity of the injuries. Small black stitches ran under Sam's hairline, closing the gash his youngest had received when the helmet had smacked into his head hard enough to give him a concussion.

John swallowed hard and scrubbed a hand over his face before finishing the scan of his youngest. The last thing John took in was the bulky white cast around the lower portion of Sam's leg. His leg was propped on a pillow, the blanket that covered him up over his waist, folded so Sam's lower leg was in full view. The cast ran from just below Sam's knee to just above his toes.

John sighed once again, and walked around the bed, stopping to place a hand on Sam's shoulder, and a light kiss on his forehead. The display was uncharacteristic of the ex-marine, but what wasn't about this night?

Keeping his hand on Sam's shoulder, John pulled the chair beside the bed closer, and slunk into it with an annoying squeak of the faux leather. He settled himself in, taking up a watch over his baby boy.

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It had been three hours since the Winchester men had been allowed into the room to see the youngest member of their family, and it was now nearing four in the morning. The two gruff men residing on either side of the bed, watched over the youngest as if their very lives depended on the health of the one lying on the bed.

It was a fact that their family _did _depend on the man lying on the bed.

Sam was the one that held the family together, by the very skin of his teeth sometimes, but he still managed to keep them together. No matter how many moves and fights, and no matter what run-down place they were living in at the time, Sam had always managed to hold the small family together.

So now the two men watched over him, making sure nothing else happened to him, making sure that he did in fact get better.

A small sound from the bed alerted both men to the waking of their youngest, and they both turned to look at his face. Dean stood from his chair, tentatively squeezing the hand he held in his own.

Sam's eyes rolled beneath the lids, and then flickered open, peering up at Dean with hazy alertness. His throat worked as he swallowed, opening his mouth to try to say something. "Dea-?" His voice croaked, hoarse and sore.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm here, Dad is too;" Dean answered, his head jerking to the man who stood on Sam's other side.

"Oh," Sam said in confusion, looking over to his father, "Hi dad." The simple greeting was enough to make Dean and his father laugh, both of them watching Sam with genuine smiles, glad that their youngest was okay.

"Hi Sammy," John squeezed his shoulder. "I'm glad you're alright," he said softly, startling Sam with the seriousness lining his tone. Sam swallowed again and nodded, not knowing how to answer his father. "Oh, and you're _never_ playing football again."

END.

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So what did yah'all think? I hope you enjoyed, and take care.

DS aka OSS


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